


Meetings and Reunifications

by Kate_Marley



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical References, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Marley/pseuds/Kate_Marley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story in six chapters about the relationship between the ‘Frying Pangle’ (Austria, Prussia, and Hungary) — and about America’s plans for a certain 25<sup>th</sup> anniversary in November 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Prussian in Poets’ Corner

A paragon of beauty  
A sacred, holy ground  
Gazing at in wonder  
Safe and sound  
 _~ Edenbridge: Sacred Ground ~_  


‘Austria? Why are you looking at that floor? That’s so boring.’

Austria sighed and tried to hold the flower bouquet in his hands more lightly. That was what teachers had to feel like when they visited sites of cultural heritage with a bunch of adolescents. ‘Did you just call the 13th century Cosmatesque pavement in front of the High Altar of Westminster Abbey _boring?_ Seriously?’

‘On the website, it says that the design of these rectangles and roundels can be seen nowhere else in this scale of complexity and subtlety’, added Hungary with a glance at her smart phone. Unlike Austria, she wasn’t able to place works of art and music without the use of art guides, but the web usually helped. When the connection wasn’t too weak, that was.

‘How can a pavement be _subtle?’,_ Prussia asked. He had a point there, Austria admitted grudgingly. ‘Why are we here anyway? Didn’t you visit Westminster Abbey, like, hundreds of times before?’

‘As a matter of fact’, Austria said, ‘I come here every time I visit London. There’s someone here to whom I always pay a visit, and I don’t want to make an exception for this year’s EU conference.’ He gestured at the flowers he was holding.

‘Like, English kings and queens?’, Prussia wondered.

‘Hardly. Have you ever heard of Poets’ Corner?’ Judging from Prussia’s puzzled look, he hadn’t. ‘All right. Come with me, you two.’ Austria turned and gestured to the left. ‘It’s in the southern transept.’

The spirits of your fondest dreams are here  
The purple patch of memories  
In ruby letters carved  
The archway of forgotten worlds appear  
 _~ Edenbridge: Sacred Ground ~_  


‘So. That’s where lots of poets are buried, right?’, Prussia asked as they stood in front of monuments and marble slabs.

‘And remembered’, Austria added. ‘Not all of the artists who have monuments and marble slabs here are actually buried in Westminster Abbey.’

‘But the one you are visiting is’, Prussia remarked, shooting him a curious glance.

‘Yes. I bet you’ll guess who it is. His monument is, um, … not exactly small-scale.’

Prussia glanced at Hungary for help, who started to inspect the floor very closely, despite its not being in Cosmatesque style. The website had already told her to whom Austria was paying a visit. Prussia shot her a grudging glance. Then, he started to walk along the aisle, not knowing what he was looking for. Austria watched him, smiling.

‘You did that very well’, Hungary whispered to Austria. ‘He was getting thoroughly bored. I think you know he’s only here because he wants to be with you.’

‘I’m aware of that’, Austria replied. ‘We didn’t see much of each other lately. Getting on my nerves is just his way of claiming my attention; I figured out as much some centuries ago.’

‘Which doesn’t exactly keep you from being on edge, right?’ Hungary shot him a saucy look.

Prussia’s cheerful ‘Ha!’ spared Austria an answer. The former country turned to them with a wolfish grin on his face and pointed at the monument above him. ‘George Frederick Handel, Esquire, born February 23, 1684, died April 14, 1759’, he read out. ‘So it’s a composer. I should have guessed. Quite high up there on the wall, isn’t he?’

‘Right’, Austria said, ‘it’s Händel. The statue really looks like him, and displaying him with musical instruments and scores from his “Messiah” was a lovely idea of Roubillac, the sculptor.’

‘Typical depiction of a scholar’, Prussia remarked. Austria’s eyebrow arched up. Art in the age of Frederick the Great. So this was safe ground for Prussia.

‘Um, the flowers’, Hungary reminded him.

‘Yes.’ Austria carefully placed the flower bouquet on a marble slab in which Händel’s middle name was written as ‘Frederic’, with ‘c’ only. Frederick, Frederic — who cared? The one whose body lay beneath that marble slab had been christened as ‘Georg Friederich’ anyway. ‘That bouquet is for you, old friend’, Austria said into the sudden silence.

‘He was Hanoverian, wasn’t he?’, Prussia then asked. ‘Went to England in order to get away from Elector George, who became heir to the British throne just a few years later. Shit happens.’

‘You do know a few things about composers after all’, Austria said, smiling. Prussia was so _adorable_ when he tried to please him by talking about culture. ‘But no, he wasn’t from the Electorate of Brunswick and Lüneburg. Actually, he was born in Halle, which had become part of the Margraviate of Brandenburg just a few years before his birth.’

Prussia’s grin widened. ‘Ha! He was from Awesome Prussia! That’s why he was able to write awesome music!’ The fact that this part of Brandenburg wasn’t called ‘Prussia’ at the time didn’t seem to bother him at all. But who was Austria to argue? He wasn’t Brandenburg, was he?

I’m not lonely here  
Roam a while on sacred ground  
I have seen the light  
I was once lost, now I’m found  
 _~ Edenbridge: Sacred Ground ~_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cosmatesque / Cosmati** work is a technique of _opus sectile_ (‘cut work’), i.e. marble, glass, and other materials cut into thin pieces of differing sizes, arranged in patterns as inlay for walls and floors. Triangles, rectangles, and circles of coloured materials encrusted upon or set into stone are typical for 12th to 14th century Cosmatesque style. It is named after members of a Roman family of sculptors and architects, the Cosmati.
> 
>  **Westminster Abbey,** a Gothic church in the City of Westminster, an Inner London borough, is a traditional burial site and place of coronation for English / British monarchs. A section of its southern transept is called **‘Poets’ Corner’** due to the high number of poets and other artists buried and commemorated there. Georg Friedrich **Händel** (1685-1759) is the only famous composer entombed in Poets’ Corner. Händel’s face on the monument by Louis-François **Roubillac** ( _c_ 1702-1762) was modelled from a death mask. — No, ‘1684’ as Händel’s year of birth on the tombstone and monument isn’t a mistake. In England, from the 12th century until 1751, the legal year began on 25 March, and Händel was born in February. He was indeed christened ‘Georg Friederich’ in Halle, which had become part of the **Margraviate of Brandenburg** in 1680. While the Margraviate of Brandenburg and the Duchy of Prussia, which were both ruled by the Hohenzollern family, legally continued to be separate entities even after Prussia had been elevated to a kingdom in 1701, Brandenburg was _de facto_ treated as part of the Prussian kingdom from then on.
> 
> Georg Ludwig (1660-1727), from 1698 on ruler of the **Electorate of Brunswick and Lüneburg,** also called Electorate of **Hannover,** became heir to the British throne in 1714 and was crowned **George I** of Great Britain and Ireland. The successor to Brunswick-Lüneburg was the Kingdom of Hannover, established at the Congress of Vienna in 1814.
> 
> ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
> 
>  **German translation:** <http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/542ffc4200042e272cba254b/1/Besprechungen-und-Wiedervereinigungen>


	2. Improvisation

Music was my first love  
and it will be my last.  
Music of the future  
and music of the past.  
 _~ John Miles: Music ~_  


‘Why are you sitting in front of that damn piano again?’, Prussia complained as he entered the still-empty common room in their hotel. ‘I thought this was your day off before the conference started!’

‘I’m sitting in front of that “damn piano”, as you call it, because my concept of “having a day off” entails making music’, Austria answered patiently, as he interrupted his playing and started working on the laptop placed on the grand piano’s lid. ‘Moreover, one of my students just texted me and asked whether I could write down at least part of the improvisation on Paul Hindemith’s third piano sonata I played the day before yesterday. Which is what I’m doing right now.’ Thanks to notation software, his sheet music would actually be _legible._ In the centuries before the invention of scorewriters, his students had had a hard time trying to decipher their teacher’s messy handwriting.

‘Sometimes I think you love your music more than any people’, Prussia grumbled.

_‘Music was my first love, and it will be my last’,_ Austria quoted. He doubted Hindemith would have appreciated that song — it was predictable and full of repetition, which the composer had always hated — but the lyrics expressed precisely how Austria felt about music. ‘This doesn’t mean I love anybody less because of my love for music, though. Love is among the things which augment when they are shared.’ He considered. ‘Music is, too. I guess that’s why I still take students.’

‘Do I get this right? You prefer writing some sheets of boring music to spending your time with the Awesome Me because you think your music spreads when you write more of it?’

‘That was _not_ what I said’, Austria replied, now sounding a little annoyed. ‘It was an _improvisation;_ I have to write it down as long as I can still remember part of it. Would you be so kind as to wait for _ten more minutes_ till I’m done with it?’ With this, Austria resumed his previous rhythm of playing some notes and writing them down, playing and writing, playing and writing.

Soon, Prussia became impatient and started to shift from one foot to the other. Scales, scales, scales. That piece seemed to consist only of scales. He began pacing the room, one step per scale. Then, he noticed a light brown baton lying on the piano lid. Without attracting attention, Prussia went to the piano and picked it up. Its bulb was made of cork, with the baton itself apparently being maple wood. He tried to twirl it between his fingers. It dropped.

‘Prussia’, Austria rebuked him mildly without even so much as looking up from his laptop.

Prussia picked up the baton again and crept up on Austria. When the other was in the midst of playing, he poked him in the side with the bulb.

Austria’s fingers clanged on the keys. ‘Ouch! Prussia, you’re such a child!’

‘Come with me’, Prussia said. ‘Your ten minutes are almost over.’

‘Almost over’, Austria repeated sternly. ‘With emphasis on _almost.’_ Then, he resumed playing.

‘Don’t be so uptight’, Prussia grumbled.

‘I’m not uptight. I’m determined’, Austria retorted, then ignored him again.

Prussia, now thoroughly bored, started to fiddle with the cuffs of his shirt. Suddenly, he felt a soft object — a tiny yellow feather Gilbird had to have lost. He grinned mischievously. Maybe that would do the trick. He snuck behind Austria and brushed the feather against the other’s neck.

Austria giggled. ‘Stop being so silly, Prussia.’

‘So you’re ticklish there?’ Prussia grinned again and brushed the feather to Austria’s hairline. ‘I never knew.’

‘Not that much’, said Austria and leaned against Prussia’s chest. _Better get my neck out of his reach,_ he thought. ‘But unlike your attempt to distract me with that baton, this was actually quite cute.’

‘Was it?’ Prussia put his arms around Austria’s waist.

‘It was. Now let me save my new score file, and then I’m finished here.’

To live without my music  
would be impossible to do.  
In this world of troubles,  
my music pulls me through.  
 _~ John Miles: Music ~_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Paul Hindemith** (1895-1963) was a German composer; there really are lots of scales, or rather scale-like passages, in his third piano sonata. Austria’s handwriting is an allusion to German / Austrian composer _Ludwig van Beethoven_ (1770-1827), whose hand-written scores also were notoriously messy (examples: [http://www.beethoven-haus-bonn.de/sixcms/list.php?page=museum_internetausstellung_seiten_de&sv[internetausstellung.id]=51340&sv[seitennummer]=%3E0](http://www.beethoven-haus-bonn.de/sixcms/list.php?page=museum_internetausstellung_seiten_de&sv%5Binternetausstellung.id%5D=51340&sv%5Bseitennummer%5D=%3E0)).


	3. Nuisance

A persistent ringing cut into Austria’s sleep. With an indignant grumble, he opened his eyes and tried to detect the cause of the noise. Unfortunately, it was too dark to see anything but shadows, and there was also the fact of his short-sightedness … Heaven knew where Prussia had put his glasses again.

At last, Austria was able to spot a blinking green light — numbers on a LED display. So the hotel room’s phone was the source of the noise. He reached over and pulled the receiver to his ear. ‘Yes?’, he muttered sleepily.

‘Hey, Roddy’, a familiar — and _way too awake_ — voice said. ‘Sorry to wake you this late. I know it’s 3 a.m., but America just arrived from the airport and asked me if I knew where you were. You weren’t in your room and he wanted to talk to you — well, in fact, he wanted to talk to the three of us about some plans for the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.’

‘Fine. Couldn’t you just have told me tomorrow?’ Oh dear. Where had his politeness gone? Evidently, Austria was _dead_ tired.

‘No, I couldn’t, because I know you have a tendency to sleep late and skip breakfast during conferences, and America will leave London in the early afternoon’, Hungary rattled on. ‘After all, it’s a EU conference and he’ll only be there, because his boss asked him to — you know, the signing of ACTA, the worries of people in Europe, and stuff. Besides, he already woke me in the middle of the night, which he probably wouldn’t have done, had you been in your room. At least I think you’d have prevented him from waking us as well, since you’re the only late riser among the three of us anyway — and the only light sleeper, so I assumed I’d only wake _you,_ if I called you right now.’

Austria swallowed several comments on Americans who weren’t able to pay attention to time zones and didn’t consider it necessary to pay that much attention to Europe, anyway. ‘Mission accomplished’, he simply mumbled. ‘Prussia’s still asleep, and I’ll try to get up early.’

‘No, you won’t _try_ to get up early, you _will_ get up early’, Hungary insisted. ‘Do you get me? Repeat: Why do you have to rise early tomorrow?’

‘Because you’re a warrior princess and I’d do anything for you anyway’, replied Austria, already dozing off again.

‘No’, Hungary said reprovingly, but with a smile in her voice. ‘Come on, tell me the real reason.’

‘Because America wants to talk to you, Prussia, and me about the fall of the Berlin Wall’, Austria said patiently.

‘Right. So don’t forget, you have to _get up_ after Prussia has woken you.’ Then, there was a click in the phone line, and Austria heard the dialling tone.

‘I’ll do my very best’, Austria muttered, falling asleep again, the receiver still in his hand.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

‘Wait a minute’, said America, looking rather confused. “You — Austria — Prussia … how does that go together?’

Hungary shrugged. ‘It goes together, that’s all that matters to me. Besides, the idea you just mentioned won’t work out, if you don’t know about it. About us. It’s part of the story.’


	4. The Ones Who …

Austria arrived at the table at which Hungary and America were already sitting for breakfast, having decided to take only one slice of bread and a huge cup of coffee from the buffet. Mariazell was as untameable as ever, but his entire hair looking more ruffled than usual. He thought it was _way too early_ in the morning to be seen in public.

‘What’s that?’, asked America in surprise.

‘On my plate?’, Austria wondered as he sat down. ‘Bread with … how do you call it …’ He looked at Hungary for help. ‘Marillenmarmelade.’

‘Apricot jam’, she assisted.

‘Thanks. I always forget that word.’ _Especially when my brain is still asleep._

‘He thinks “apricot” is too _un-Austrian’,_ Prussia added wryly, carefully balancing a tray with orange juice, bread, butter, several types of sausage and cheese, as well as a huge serving of corn flakes with milk and fruit on his hand. Despite their hotel being in Central London, there was no typical English breakfast with bacon and eggs. France had insisted for the chef of their conference hotel to be non-English in advance of their meeting, and apparently, he had had his way.

‘No’, America said, ‘I meant “What’s that” as in what’s _that’_ — he indicated Austria’s slice of bread — ‘in comparison to _that’._ He gestured to Prussia’s breakfast tray.

‘I can’t eat when I’m tired’, Austria explained. ‘Not a morning person.’

America shot him a glance as if Austria was insane. ‘Dude, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!’ he cried. ‘You should totally eat more in the mornings. Prussia’s doing it the right way.’ The concept of _not being hungry_ seemed to be entirely beyond him.

‘Please refrain from comparing me to Prussia, as he is still used to morning assemblies from his centuries in the military.’ _And don’t ‘dude’ me in the mornings,_ Austria thought. _I can’t take that at 7:30 a.m._

‘Yeah, we know you aren’t that much of a fighter’, Prussia chimed in. _‘Bella gerant alii,_ and all that stuff.’

Austria shot him a warning glance. ‘You know very well that is not quite true’, he said. ‘How many times did we cross swords — in the literal sense?’

‘True, but in the end, I beat you at Königgrätz.’ Prussia grinned.

_‘In the end,_ my dear Prussia, I remained a nation while you were dissolved, Austria said icily. ‘That’s what your wars got you.’

Prussia flinched, then started to glare at Austria, who sipped his coffee, looking unperturbed.

America’ gaze was a mixture of nervousness and confusion. ‘Uh— Hungary? Are they — are they always like this?’

‘Why, of course, that’s normal’, Hungary replied calmly. ‘It’s just their usual banter. Don’t let it bother you.’

America looked as if he was about to shake his head. Then, he thought better of it, and said a little nervously: ‘Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about what lead to the second time you were dissolved, Prussia …’

‘Go on’, Hungary encouraged him, smiling. There sat the most powerful nation of the world, looking like a little boy who didn’t want the grown-ups to fight. It was quite endearing.

‘Um, well, so it’s about the 25th anniversary of the German Reunification. I was wondering what to do with that November 9, because it’s also the date of really nasty events, the Pogrom Night of 1938 in particular.’

Prussia nodded. ‘It’s sometimes called the fateful day of German history. If you believe in fate, that is.’

‘Well’, America went on, ‘after some time, I had really cool idea.’ His face lit up at the memory.

Austria watched him warily. He had heard too many of America’s _cool ideas_ during various conferences to not be sceptical now.

‘It really is a nice idea’, Hungary, who had read Austria’s gaze, whispered to him.

‘I thought it would be great for the anniversary to re-enact a few scenes of the reunification process with some of the countries who were involved in it’, America said. ‘Especially the one who set the ball rolling’, he nodded to Hungary, ‘and the one who gained and lost everything in it.’ That was Prussia, of course.

Prussia and Austria looked at each other.

‘A stage play?’, Austria wondered, not quite managing to keep his surprise out of his voice. ‘That really sounds like a good idea.’

Prussia nodded.

‘So you agree to it?’, America cried cheerfully. ‘That’s gorgeous! Let’s meet as soon as possible for the rehearsals! I’m already looking forward to being the director!’

_Oh dear,_ Austria thought. What had he just got himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **‘Marillen’** is the Austrian German word for ‘apricots’. In non-Austrian German, it’s ‘Aprikosen’.
> 
> With **‘Bella gerant alii’,** Prussia alludes to an elegiac couplet — an ancient Greek form of lyric poetry, consisting of a hexameter verse followed by a pentamenter verse — in Latin on Hapsburg marriage politics, perhaps dating back as far as the 15 th century:
> 
> Bélla geránt aliī, tú felix Áustria nūbe.  
> Nám quae Márs aliīs, dát tibi díva Venūs.  
>  _May others wage war, you, happy Austria, marry._  
>  _For what Mars gives to others, you receive from the god-like Venus._  
> 
> 
> **Königgrätz** (Hradec Králové in Czech) is a Bohemian city near which the decisive battle of the Austro-Prussian war took place on 3 July 1866. The Prussian victory is regarded as a major step on the way to the foundation of a German Empire _without_ Austria (the so-called ‘lesser German solution’) in 1871.
> 
> The first time **Prussia** was **dissolved** was in 1947, as a consequence of the German defeat in World War II; the second time was the dissolution of the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in 1990 (I follow the notion that Prussia became East Germany after WWII).


	5. … Found Their Voice

_It was a beautiful spring day in 1989. Austria sat on his sofa, reading_ Verdi. Roman der Oper _by Franz Werfel, when his telephone rang. The red one. The one the number of which only the Austrian government had. Austria picked up the receiver, wondering what could be so important that the government called the personification of its country. ‘Roderich Edelstein’, he said. He had realised several decades ago that humans found it rather irritating if he answered the phone with ‘Austria’._

_‘This is Alois Mock’, a voice at the other end of the line said, and added without further ado: ‘Seems like the Hungarians are going to dismantle the Iron Curtain. There will be a press conference on the second of May in the Hungarian village of Hegyeshalom, right at the Austrian border. Did you know that?’_

_Austria lost his voice. He held the receiver in his hands and stared at it as if seeing it for the very first time. He wouldn’t have known how to describe his feelings. Surprise, excitement, certainly, but that wasn’t all._

_‘Austria?’, the foreign minister’s voice asked. ‘Are you still there?’_

_Austria was still speechless. He felt like crying and leaping for joy at the same time._

_‘All right, Austria, I take it that you didn’t know it either’, Mock said, sounding ever so slightly amused, and hung up._

The years went by  
Without a tone  
Without a single note  
I felt I’d lost myself to silence  
 _~ Savn: Musical Silence ~_  


~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Prussia grinned. ‘Did you really do that? Stare at the receiver like some dumbass, I mean. ‘S not like you.’ His mocking laughter sounded through Austria’s living room, in which he had met with Austria, Hungary, and America. They were writing the scenes for America’s theatre play on the German Reunification. After some discussion, they had decided to meet at Austria’s place, because it was easiest to reach for both Hungary and Prussia.

‘Don’t mock me’, Austria said with dignity. ‘I’d have loved to see the expression on your face when Günter Schabowski said everyone could leave the DDR _right now.’_

‘But that was because no one had expected that _right now’,_ Prussia defended himself. ‘It hadn’t been supposed to be _right now.’_ He didn’t realise this amounted to admitting Austria was right.

‘Boys, just stop it!’, Hungary interrupted. ‘We’ll never get done if you keep on squabbling like that.’

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_During the press conference in Hegyeshalom, no one noticed the seemingly young Austrian with his diplomatic passport and the Hungarian girl with the green beret slipping away._

_‘I had hoped you’d be here’, both of them blurted out at the same time. Then, they smiled, looking relieved._

_‘Do you think this is the beginning … of the end?’, Austria asked._

_‘Well, it actually began in April. To be precise, they started to dismantle the border installations on the 18th of April, near Rajka. The commander of the border guards is probably explaining this right now.’ Rajka, or Ragendorf, was a village in Western Hungary, close to the borders of both Austria and the ČSSR. ‘But if you’re asking me if I think the Iron Curtain will eventually fall: I hope so. I don’t know, I just hope so.’_

_Their eyes met. Austria felt as if he could look right through Hungary. There were no walls, there was no pretence between them. Just like the fence between their borders, which had, during the last few years, never seemed as unsurmountable as the fences between other Communist and ‘free’ states._

_‘I hope so, too’, he said and took her hand. They smiled at each other._

S, a régi szeretőmér  
Mit nem cselekednék  
Tengerből a vizet  
Kanállal lemerném.  
 _And what wouldn’t I do for my old lover?_  
 _I would skim the water from the sea with a spoon._  
 _~ Szerelem (Hungarian folk song) ~_  


~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

‘And then we kissed, but I think that’s too private for the play’, Hungary said. ‘I don’t want to kiss Austria in front of all the other countries.’

‘But it’s just a theatre play!’, America protested.

‘It’s not’, Hungary objected. ‘I’m playing myself. I think it’s much easier to kiss someone in front of others if you don’t have real feelings for that person.’

‘But I thought some Scarlett O’Hara-like Hollywood kiss would be really cool’, America pouted.

‘You mean, like this?’ Austria slid his hands around Hungary’s waist, pulling her close while carefully lifting her on tiptoe. ‘That’s not at all like _her._ Besides, Hollywood’s golden age is over.’

Hungary started to giggle. ‘No, Austria’s right, I’m really no Vivien Leigh.’

‘Prussia?’, America asked hopefully.

‘Sorry, America, they’re right. You can do that when you let Hungary play … I don’t know, someone like Liechtenstein.’

‘I think Switzerland would object if I gave Liechtenstein a Hollywood kiss’, Austria commented dryly.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_In the evening of the 9 th of November, it was the black telephone that rang first — the one the number of which only his fellow countries knew. This time, Austria had almost expected it. The border between Austria and Hungary was open, even to citizens of the GDR, for almost a month. The ČSSR had opened its borders only a few days ago. He had a feeling who was on the line._

_‘Is that you, Hungary?’, he asked. ‘What has happened?’_

_‘Just switch on your TV’, she said, not even surprised he had guessed it was her._

_He did what he was told and saw a confused Günter Schabowski, secretary of the Central Committee of the SED for information. ‘As far as I know, that takes effect … it takes effect immediately, without delay’, Austria heard him say._

_‘Is he talking about what I think he’s talking about?’, Austria asked excitedly._

_‘Yes, he is!’, Hungary cried. ‘Seems like they’re going to open the border!’_

_‘Which means …’_

_‘Don’t be stupid, Austria! That means I’ll be in Vienna in about an hour and we’re both taking a flight to West Berlin as soon as possible, of course!’_

The road is open  
We find our way though ties where broken  
So the means to the end  
Was the peace that was meant  
To be ours since it all began  
 _~ Epica: Our Destiny ~_  


~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

‘That’s exactly what we did’, Austria said. ‘Both of us had to take government planes, because it was the fastest way possible to get to Berlin.’

‘I had also phoned Germany … I mean, West, and told him we were coming, so we could meet up with him’, Hungary added.

‘Finding Prussia among all those people was more difficult than any of us had expected’, Austria remembered. ‘It was _overwhelming.’_

‘But of course, the Awesome Me eventually made himself heard’, Prussia grinned.

Hungary shot him a quick glance. ‘As far as I remember, the Awesome Me almost started to cry when Germany hugged him.’

‘There’s no way I …’

‘Oh, Prussia, all of us saw it’, Hungary cut him short. ‘Do you want us to ask Germany?’

Now, it was Prussia who pouted.

‘The three of you at the wall would be really cool as a scene — I mean, monumental, like in _The Ten Commandments_ with Charlton Heston’, America said.

_Like in_ The Ten Commandments? _Seriously?,_ Austria wondered. What was America thinking?

‘Let’s make it into a silent scene’, Hungary suggested. ‘You know, just the three of you on stage, and Prussia crossing the border. Isn’t that what modern theatre does all the time?’

‘The _four_ of us’, Austria corrected. ‘Germany has to be in that scene and the next one.’

Everyone was looking at America.

‘Dude, you … you want me to …’

‘There’s no one else left, is there?’, Hungary asked. ‘Besides, it was your idea.’

‘It’s just a silent scene’, Austria said. ‘You’ll make it, playing and directing at the same time.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll do it.’ America sighed.

‘At least we don’t have to dye his hair’, Prussia said, shrugging.

‘You don’t mean you want to gel …’

Prussia simply grinned at America.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_After the four of them had met, they went to Germany’s house in order to celebrate their reunification. It was already way past midnight. The more beer Prussia drank, the quieter he became. While Hungary chatted to Germany about the changes that had taken effect in her country in the course of the last months, Prussia stood up and left. After some time, Austria decided to follow him._

_When Austria found him, Prussia was leaning on the rail of Germany’s balcony, looking down at the streets of West Berlin. Austria stepped next to him in silence, waiting._

_‘Can you guess what I’m thinking?’, Prussia asked at last._

_‘You’re thinking about Rome and Germania, aren’t you?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_Pause._

_‘You … you know, back in 1938, after becoming part of Germany as “Eastern March”, I wondered about the same things’, Austria said at last._

_‘And?’_

_‘And then, Hungary wanted me to promise her I’d survive and we’d see each other again.’ Austria looked over the rooftops, into the distance. ‘I said I couldn’t, but she wouldn’t listen. She made me promise, because she wanted me to believe in myself, to believe I could get through this.’_

_‘Which you did.’_

_‘Which I did. Which all of us did.’_

_‘So … you’re telling me …’_

_‘If there’s anyone who can survive ceasing to be a separate country, it’s you. You’ve been the State of the Teutonic Order, you’ve been Prussia, you’ve been East Germany. You can become someone else once again.’_

_Their fingers touched._

_‘Thank you’, said Prussia._

Sometimes I feel I don’t want this change  
I think we all have to rearrange  
And now I feel there’s no one losing more  
 _~ Epica: Tides of Time ~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the novel _**Verdi. Roman der Oper** (Verdi. Novel of the Opera,_ 1924) by Austrian author Franz Werfel (1890-1945), composer Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901) travels to Venice in 1883. Verdi has a creative block, because he thinks his operas are way too old-fashioned in comparison to those by Richard Wagner (1813-1883). Gradually, it occurs to Verdi that he might have come to Venice in order to meet Wagner, but when he eventually decides to do so, Wagner has just died. Only at the end of the novel, Verdi remembers the power of music and starts to write his opera _Otello._
> 
> **Alois Mock** (*1934) was foreign Minister of Austria from 1987 to 1995. On 27 June 1989, he symbolically cut the Iron Curtain near Sopron together with his Hungarian colleague _Gyula Horn_ (1932-2013). Mock led Austria into the European Union in 1995 and became one of Austria’s most popular politicians.
> 
> **Günter Schabowski** (*1929) was, in 1989, secretary of the Central Committee of the SED (Socialist Unity Party of Germany) for information, i.e., sort of a government spokesmen. On 9 November, during a press conference, he read out a note saying East Germans were allowed to cross the border of the GDR (German Democratic Republic), but failed to realise — and to tell the journalists — it was to take effect on 10 November at 4 a.m. As a consequence, thousands of East Berlin citizens immediately gathered at the border crossings at the Berlin Wall and demanded to be let through. At 11:30 p.m., a Stasi (State Security) officer, _Harald Jäger_ (*1943), finally decided to open the border crossing at Bornholmer Straße.
> 
> Czechoslovakia, called the **Czechoslovak Socialist Republic (Československá socialistická republika, ČSSR)** between 1960 and 1990, existed as a state from 1918 to 1992. It was dissolved into the Czech Republic and Slovakia in the beginning of 1993.
> 
> In **Hungary,** there were fewer **restrictions on travel** than in other Communist states as early as the 1970s, and every Hungarian could get a passport valid for all countries since 1988. Still, travelling was far from easy, because the Hungarian currency, the Forint, couldn’t be changed.
> 
> The period from the late 1920s to the early 1960 is called the **‘golden age’ of Hollywood.** During that time, many classic films were made, such as _Gone With the Wind_ (1939), starring Vivien Leigh (1913-1967) as Scarlett O’Hara, and _The Ten Commandments_ (1956), starring Charlton Heston (1923-2008) as Moses.
> 
> **‘Eastern March’,** or _‘Ostmark’,_ was the name the National Socialists had given to Austria after its annexation, the so-called ‘Anschluss’, in 1938.


	6. The Magic of the Moment

Take me to the magic of the moment  
On a glory night  
Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams  
With you and me  
 _~ The Scorpions: Wind of Change ~_  


The performance took place in the late afternoon of the 9th of November. They had decided on a minimal set of props, an old telephone being on top of the list. The wall was symbolized by the transition from stage to house — or, rather, from dais to auditorium in the conference room at Germany’s house. The desks had been carried out of the room; the chairs were arranged in several rows with a central corridor. Germany, of course, sat in the first row — at least after Austria had reminded America that the best seats in theatre were, unlike in cinema, at the very front.

The first two scenes proceeded without any trouble. A voice from the off — America — played Alois Mock on the phone, and a little more dialogue between Austria and Hungary explained they were leaving the press conference at Hegyeshalom upon entering the stage. During the third scene, it took America some time to get the video projector for Schabowski’s famous press conference working, so Austria had to improvise a little. With ‘Hang on, Hungary, my telly needs to warm up first’, he at least scored by getting the laughs.

The fourth scene was the fall of the Berlin Wall. The four of them were most anxious about it, because no one remained backstage to fix the sound system, in case it turned out to be as capricious as the video projector. They had decided to mix a sound file with people talking across each other and another file from the media coverage of the 9th and 10th of November 1989.

The scene started with Hungary and Austria entering the stage from the left and America from the right. America had in fact gelled his hair, but only after Prussia had chased him through Germany’s house with the styling gel while being chased by Hungary with her frying pan for chasing America. At last, Austria had lost his temper and told them to either stop or he wouldn’t participate in _anything_ any more — which had actually ended the wild chase, because Austria was in all of the scenes.

Then, Prussia entered the room from the door opposite the dais, walking towards it through the central corridor while peering to the left and right, looking for his brother. At last, he saw him — or, rather, America — and stopped. At the same time, America also noticed him, and they dashed towards each other, meeting at the edge of the dais, embracing.

Austria shot a quick glance at the real Germany, who had tears in his eyes. When he saw the strong man Germany had become like this, Austria involuntarily thought of cute little Holy Rome, and smiled. Some other nations also seemed to have glittering eyes, among them South Korea and the Republic of Cyprus, those still-divided states. Then, Austria’s gaze fell on Russia, and he shivered: Russia’s eyes were like frosted ice.

Hungary pulled Austria out of his reverie when she tugged his arm under hers. Together, they stepped to Prussia and embraced him.

Without attracting attention, America switched off both music and light with a remote, and the fifth scene started. The only thing they had decided to change was its ending: Austria and Prussia didn’t hold hands — Prussia had insisted on _that_ being ‘private’, too — but Austria put his arm around Prussia’s shoulders. Truth be told, Austria failed to see why this was less ‘private’, in Prussia’s opinion, but they had left it at that.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

After the performance and after accepting congratulations from several nations — first and foremost, Germany, of course, whose eyes were still wet — they joined the thousands of people in front of the Brandenburg Gate for the official celebrations. The countries arrived right on time for the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor, and Austria tugged Hungary and Prussia under as they listened to the concert. Austria closed his eyes and let the choral express for him how glad he was to be able to stand there with the two of them at his side.

Deine Zauber binden wieder,  
Was die Mode streng getheilt,  
Alle Menschen werden Brüder,  
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.  
 _Fashion’s laws, indeed, may sever,_  
 _But thy magic joins again;_  
 _All mankind are brethren ever_  
 _’Neath thy mild and gentle reign._  
 _~ Friedrich Schiller: An die Freude (Hymn to Joy) ~_  



End file.
